


All Pretty and Strong

by gooseberry



Series: Listen to the Never [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Breast Worship, F/F, Female Gladiolus Amicitia, Female Ignis Scientia, Female Noctis Lucis Caelum, Frottage, Genderswap, Paparazzi, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 10:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15483300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooseberry/pseuds/gooseberry
Summary: Noct looks away, back down at her feet still dangling in the water. Ignis lays a hand on her shoulder, wet and warm, and Noct grunts in answer when Ignis says, “Toilet break. I’ll be back.”It figures, really. Ignis is the kind of conscientious person who doesn’t pee in pools. Of course she’ll go to the actual bathroom, pull her wet swimsuit off her body, struggling as it sticks to her skin, as it catches and drags over her shoulders and her boobs and her hips and her thighs—Noct turns enough to watch as Ignis walks toward the changing room. The swimsuit is really low in the back, lower than Noct had realized before. Like, she can almost see the top of Ignis’s ass. Noct bites her lip hard.“Hey, where’s Iggy going?” Prompto asks, popping up from the water right next to Noct. It startles her, and she yelps as she looks down at Prompto, who’s looking up at her through his goggles.“Um,” Noct says, aware that her voice is still hoarse, “toilet, I guess.”---Noct really likes Ignis's body, and she decides to show her appreciation. Also, general sad feelings about paparazzi and lack of privacy for public figures. That's it, that's the fic.





	All Pretty and Strong

**Author's Note:**

> For a '100 words of breast worship' prompt.

Noct’s not a huge fan of swimming. It’s fine in moderation, or whatever, but when it comes to general leisure activities around water—or any activities around water—she prefers fishing. Fishing, though, got vetoed by Ignis _and_ Prompto _and_ Gladio, because _It’s far too hot to be out in the sun,_ and _It’s so boring, dude,_ and _I’m just going for the hotties,_ respectively. This is the problem with group activities: compromises suck and no one’s ever actually happy, except maybe Ignis. 

Once Noct’s plan of fishing at the reservoir was shot down, everyone else’s ideas got shot down, too. The waterpark is too crowded and unsafe, particularly on holiday weekends; public pools are unhygienic and have the same issues of overcrowding; beaches and shores have all the aforementioned problems (unhygienic, overcrowded, unsafe), plus the added benefit of paparazzi and perverts with cameras and telephoto lens. 

Prompto seems oblivious to last problem, but Noct catches the way Gladio and Ignis look at each other silently, both of them frowning before Gladio suggests a private pool she’s heard about. So that’s where they are, renting out a private pool just so Noct can sit on her ass, in a swimsuit, without having to worry about photos of her tits showing up on magazine covers ( _What a Noct-Out! The Princess’s Summer Body!_ ). She’s had enough of that for one lifetime, and more than enough of the creepy-as-fuck fan letters from assholes wondering if she shaves down there, ‘cause they saw a photo of her at a beach and they pulled out their magnifying glass and they thought they saw—whatever. 

Whatever. It just sucks. It’s complete and utter bullshit, and it’s not something that the Citadel can ever actually change, so here they are. At least she gets to hang out somewhere outside the Citadel. But the whole be-careful-so-no-one-takes-a-picture-up-your-legs thing kinda throws a damper on whatever excitement she’d actually managed to scrounge up, considering that last time it didn’t matter how careful she was. Zoom lenses are a bitch.

“Not gonna swim?” Gladio asks as she walks past Noct, her feet slapping on the wet tile. Noct shrugs and kicks her foot, sending up a splash. 

“Not a big fan of chlorine,” she says, and feels like shit when Gladio stops and looks back at her, frowning. 

“You know—”

“I know,” she interrupts Gladio. “I know, I just—”

There are, she knows, photos sent to the Citadel. They’re sent to her, technically, but Noct’s never actually been allowed to open any mail sent to her. There usually isn’t anything actually dangerous—not shit like poison or explosives—but there’s fucked up stuff sometimes, like the photos taken up her skirt, when she’s on the subway or when she’s climbing out of a car or when she’s so stupid as to do something like re-cross her legs. She knows that the Citadel’s gotten pictures of her fixing her bra straps, and pictures of her eating at restaurants, and pictures of her bending over to pet someone’s dog. It’s disgusting, and she tries not to think about it. She does pretty good with that, she thinks—she hasn’t let them scare her away from leaving her apartment yet—but sometimes she sees Ignis and Gladio frown, and she realizes that, yeah, okay, this is probably another activity she can’t really do in public, unless the Citadel wants an uptick in stained letters. 

And now she’s thinking about it again, about how last summer she’d tried to pick a wedgie out of her swimsuit while at the beach; about the photos that popped up on the internet, faster than the Citadel could take them down; about the doubling of Crownsguard at her apartment and her school, because some of the letters were a little too detailed. 

“We should’ve just gone to the aquarium,” she manages to say, trying to ignore how she wants to throw up. Gladio walks back toward her, her feet going _slap-slap-slap_ , and Noct stares down at her own feet, skinny and pale and dangling in the pool.

“Nah,” Gladio says as she sits next to Noct with a grunt, “I don’t think Prompto can take many more pictures of fish. ‘Sides,” she nods toward the pool, “looks like he and Iggy are enjoying themselves.”

And it does look like they’re having fun, and Ignis seems to be enjoying herself even more than Prompto. They’re racing each other on the other side of the pool, and Prompto doesn’t seem to be falling behind too badly. It’s typical, really. Ignis is competitive as fuck, about basically everything, and Prompto’s always game to try anything that seems fun. 

Gladio and Noct watch until Ignis reaches one end of the pool; then Gladio nudges her shoulder against Noct’s, saying, “Hey, maybe we can go fishing this weekend.”

It’s nice of her, even if it’s pity. Noct nods and says, “Sure, sounds great.”

“Great,” Gladio echoes, and she grins at Noct before she gets up, walking back to give herself enough room to get a good running start before she jumps into the pool. The splash is huge, gets water all over Noct, and Noct scowls. What an asshole. 

Gladio’s splash attracts Prompto and Ignis’s attention, and Noct watches as Prompto begins to swim toward Gladio, his strokes throwing up water all around him. They’re probably gonna have a water fight, trying to dunk each other or whatever, and Noct wonders if maybe she should retreat back from the pool so neither of them are tempted to try to drag her into the water.

Before she can decide whether to move, though, she notices that Ignis is swimming in her direction, crossing the pool. She’s swimming this weird kind of stroke (frog stroke? That might’ve been what Noct’s PE teacher called it) that should probably look stupid but actually just looks really hot, because it really does things to show how flexible Ignis is. Like, how bendy her legs are. God. Noct swallows, wondering if Ignis is gonna swim right up to Noct, if she’s gonna put her wet hands on Noct’s legs and slide them up Noct’s thighs as she lift herself far enough out of the water to rest her chin on Noct’s knees.

Life’s full of disappointment, though, because Noct’s stuck in a swimming pool rather than out fishing, _and_ Ignis redirects her aim just enough that she ends up resting her hands on the edge next to Noct, rather than actually on Noct. She’s squinting up at Noct, just a tiny bit, and Noct must look stupidly dazed because Ignis’s squint goes straight from slightly-nearsighted into moderately-concerned.

“Are you alright, Noct?” Ignis asks, and Noct nods, then shrugs, then nods again, feeling increasingly stupid with each motion. 

“Just,” she says hoarsely, “trying to decide if I wanna swim.”

“Hmm.” Ignis’s hum seems a little distrusting, but she doesn’t push at Noct. Instead, she lifts herself up out of the water, the muscles of her arms standing out as she pushes herself up. Ignis gets a knee up on the edge, uses it to brace herself as she pushes herself up to her feet, and Noct can’t really keep herself from staring at Ignis. Like, her body is—it’s not, like, anything new to Noct, or at least it shouldn’t seem like anything new, but Noct is abruptly aware that Ignis’s body looks very different when it’s wet. It’s just, the water is running off Ignis’s arms and legs, and the places where Ignis’s skin looks half-dry are kinda, what, like matte? Maybe? And then the places where water is still streaming down her body, those places her skin is gleaming, all wet and shiny, and the contrast between the matte-dry look and the wet-and-gleaming look makes Noct want to lick her skin. 

And then, of course, there’s the swimsuit. Noct’s used to Ignis in all types of clothes, from workout gear (and fuck, Specs in track pants and a tank top does great things for Noct, especially when Ignis is sweaty and overheated) to formal business clothes (which are great, because it’s so easy to slide her hands up Ignis’s skirt, to coax Ignis into rubbing off on Noct’s thigh) to ballgowns and stuff (great for Ignis’s propensity for going the low-cut route, which means her boobs are usually on great display). Noct’s also used to Ignis naked, because they’ve been together since they were tiny; they’ve changed together and bathed together, and they’ve also been fucking for a while now, so naked Ignis is a pretty regular Ignis in Noct’s life.

Swimsuits, though, are more of a rare thing. Like, a once-in-a-blue-moon thing. There’s something unexpected and a little peculiar about it, like it’s this halfway place. Noct can see all of Ignis’s legs, from her feet up to her groin, and there’s just—like, it’s just a strap of fabric, _wet_ fabric, that’s keeping Ignis’s cunt covered and her modesty in check. And, shit, okay. Now Noct knows what the perverts are thinking, and that’s actually really distressing.

Noct looks away, back down at her feet still dangling in the water. Ignis lays a hand on her shoulder, wet and warm, and Noct grunts in answer when Ignis says, “Toilet break. I’ll be back.”

It figures, really. Ignis is the kind of conscientious person who doesn’t pee in pools. Of course she’ll go to the actual bathroom, pull her wet swimsuit off her body, struggling as it sticks to her skin, as it catches and drags over her shoulders and her boobs and her hips and her thighs—

Noct turns enough to watch as Ignis walks toward the changing room. The swimsuit is really low in the back, lower than Noct had realized before. Like, she can almost see the top of Ignis’s ass. Noct bites her lip hard.

“Hey, where’s Iggy going?” Prompto asks, popping up from the water right next to Noct. It startles her, and she yelps as she looks down at Prompto, who’s looking up at her through his goggles. 

“Um,” Noct says, aware that her voice is still hoarse, “toilet, I guess.”

Prompto giggles, saying something that sounds kinda like, _Dude, of course! She’d never pee in a pool._ Noct can’t focus on that, though, or the question of whether Prompto pees in pools. She’s still distracted by the way Ignis had climbed out of the pool, by the way Noct had wanted to lick her skin, by thin layer of black fabric that is all that’s covering Ignis’s nakedness.

Noct swallows again, then pulls her feet out of the pool, clambering up to her feet. Prompto makes a questioning sound down in the pool, and Noct says distractedly, “Toilet. I gotta go.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Prompto hisses, sounding scandalized, “do _not_ —are you seriously gonna— _here_?”

Noct ignores him, heading after Ignis.

x

She finds Ignis washing her hands, and Ignis looks up, smiling at Noct through the reflection of the mirror. Her smile looks warm and fond, like she’s happy to see Noct—like she doesn’t mind Noct is obviously creeping on her. Noct smiles back, feeling a little awkward. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” Ignis teases her, “but I suppose I could certainly do worse.”

Noct snorts, watching as Ignis finishes washing her hands. Ignis’s swimsuit is all out of place, the shoulder straps twisted and the crotch rolling into Ignis’s groin. It looks uncomfortable and very un-Ignis-like, until it feels like a hilarious cluebat is smacking Noct over the head. Of course Ignis wouldn’t fix her swimsuit before washing her hands; she probably touched her swimsuit as little possible, thinking dire thoughts about germs and improper hygiene. 

“Something funny?” Ignis asks curiously, and Noct grins at her. 

“Just noticed you were having some trouble with your swimsuit. Want me to help?” 

Ignis coughs as she turns from the sink, water dripping from her hands. It’s the kind of polite, disbelieving cough she gives when Councilmembers are talking outta their asses. It makes Noct grin harder. 

“Forgive me, but I’m finding it difficult to imagine any altruism in your offer,” Ignis says dryly. It’s not a no, though, and she takes a tiny step back, resting against the edge of the counter when Noct crowds forward. She’s still smiling at Noct, warm and fond, and she sighs really nicely when Noct reaches out and touches her, running her fingers down the skin where Ignis’s left shoulder strap is digging in.

“Royal prerogative,” Noct informs her as airily as possible, ignoring Ignis’s really rude snort. “Helping our subjects however we can.”

“Indeed,” Ignis says, still smiling at her. Noct hums a _Mhmm_ , then slips her fingers under the edge of Ignis’s swimsuit, where it’s pressing in on the softness of Ignis’s left boob. She can feel Ignis’s shudder, and she wants to shudder, too. Ignis’s swimsuit is cool and damp, and her skin has that same cool dampness; it makes Noct’s fingertips skip and drag over Ignis’s skin, and Noct wonders how hot her fingers must feel to Ignis in comparison. 

“That’s not the strap,” Ignis mentions unnecessarily. Noct rolls her eyes, then slides her fingers up toward Ignis’s shoulder. She catches the left strap and pulls it to the side, down and off Ignis’s shoulder. It’s totally worth Ignis’s complaint: “ _Really_ , Noct.”

It’s fine, though—definitely fine, because when Noct tugs on the other shoulder strap, Ignis rolls her right shoulder helpfully. With the straps gone, the swimsuit is barely staying up, held only in place by the damp grasp of Ignis’s skin. Noct traces the neckline of the swimsuit, following its deep scoop over Ignis’s tits, listening to Ignis suck in a hard breath.

“This okay?” Noct asks, just to be sure. She doubts Gladio will come in, even if Gladio is probably pissed, and Prompto definitely won’t be stumbling into the ladies’ changing room by accident. There’s no one else to wander in, inadvertently or otherwise. Still, they’re basically in a glorified bathroom, and Ignis—Ignis is the kind of girl who doesn’t fix her swimsuit until after she’s washed her hands. Case in point.

Noct’s not disappointed, though. Ignis is leaning further back on the countertop, her hands bracing her up. She’s spreading her legs, too, giving Noct room to slot a leg between Ignis’s thighs. “As if you’re concerned about being a nuisance,” Ignis says, not meanly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Noct hooks her finger in the neck of Ignis’s swimsuit and tugs it down, just a little. It drags across Ignis’s skin, and Ignis shivers again; Noct can feel Ignis’s hips give a tiny rock against Noct’s thigh. It’s encouraging—and even more encouraging when Noct leans forward to press a kiss against the top of Ignis’s right boob, just above the swimsuit’s neckline. 

“Noct,” Ignis says, and she’s fisting a hand in Noct’s hair, just tight enough to hurt the tiniest bit. 

Noct smiles against Ignis’s skin, then pulls the swimsuit lower, pressing another kiss where Ignis’s skin is emerging; Ignis’s hips give another little jerk. Noct takes her time with it, pressing chaste, closed-mouth kisses on each of Ignis’s boobs as she pulls the swimsuit lower. Ignis’s head has fallen back, and Noct can hear her breathing grow heavy and uneven; Noct can feel it, too, as Ignis’s whole chest rises up toward Noct each time Ignis breathes in.

By the time Noct’s pulled the swimsuit down past Ignis’s boobs, Ignis is rubbing herself against Noct’s thigh haphazardly, and she’s gotten wet enough that she’s soaked through her swimsuit. Noct can feel it, the slipperiness of Ignis’s slick as Ignis slides against her leg. Noct nocks her thigh up higher, up against Ignis’s cunt, and Ignis moans loud and long. 

“God,” Noct says, and she leans back a little, just enough to try to get a better picture of this: Ignis leaning on back on the counter, her hips working as she tries to get off on Noct’s thigh; her swimsuit pulled down enough that it’s bunched up underneath Ignis’s tits, the black of the fabric against the paleness of Ignis’s skin making Ignis seem even more naked. Ignis’s nipples are pebbled—probably first from swimming, but definitely from just being turned on now—and Noct flicks her thumb over the left one. 

“God,” Noct says again, “I really love your tits.”

Ignis barely opens her eyes, but she lifts her eyebrows, which is really expressive—just not very reproachful, or at least not effectively reproachful. “Tits, Noct?”

“Would boobs be better?” Noct asks curiously, but she doesn’t wait for Ignis's answer. She ducks in, licking Ignis’s right nipple with a broad stroke of her tongue, then carefully closely her teeth tenderly around the nipple and tugging. The noise Ignis makes is amazing, all high-pitched and frantic, and the way Ignis tightens her grip on Noct’s hair, pushing Noct harder against her tits, is even better. Noct runs the tip off her tongue over Ignis’s nipple, where it’s held between her teeth, then tugs again, harder.

When Ignis comes, it’s with a moan that Noct thinks Gladio and Prompto might be able to hear out in the pool. It’s loud and it echoes, seems to go on and on as Ignis clutches Noct to her, riding Noct’s thigh like she’ll die if she doesn’t. Afterwards, when her hands are loosening their grip on Noct’s hair, Noct licks Ignis’s nipple again, trying to soothe it. Ignis shudders beneath her, then pushes Noct away gently.

“Too much,” she tells Noct, and Noct turns her attention to Ignis’s neck instead, laying soft kisses over it after Ignis warns her, “No marks, Noct.”

Eventually, though, Ignis pushes Noct entirely away, and Noct goes, enjoying the way Ignis’s legs are still quivering. Ignis’s face is flushed, and her mouth is red and swollen, like she was biting her lips while she was getting herself off on Noct. She looks like she’s been fucked, and Noct is already—gleefully—anticipating how irked Gladio’s gonna look, how Ignis is gonna flush while Prompto stammers and tries to avoid looking at her. 

“Well,” Ignis says with a sigh, “we can hardly get back into the pool.” She’s reaching down and gingerly pulling the crotch of her swimsuit away—just for a moment, but long enough for Noct to catch a peek of Ignis’s curls, glistening and smushed flat, and the shine of slick smeared along the inside of her swimsuit. Noct swallows, then reaches out, tucking a finger inside the hem along the crotch of the swimsuit, feeling the slippery heat of Ignis’s folds. 

Ignis shudders and throws an arm over Noct’s shoulder, and she kisses back when Noct gives her a kiss. She laughs, too, still warm and fond, when Noct admits, “Let’s go home, then. Didn’t really wanna swim, anyway.”


End file.
